


fly along with me

by janie_tangerine



Category: Iron Fist (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Mile High Club, Nightmares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 21:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which they make good use of that Rand private plane.





	fly along with me

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOO HELLO GUYS tumblr is committing suicide so I decided it's high time I repost here all the fic I had on tumblr so that at least it doesn't get lost and given that this one was... well, explicit sexual content, I FIGURED IT WAS TIME. Here, have some porn I wrote months ago that I 100% forgot to repost, hopefully it's entertaining. ;) It was for an anon who wanted those two to have sex on the plane - done! ;)
> 
> Also: I don't remember where I stole the title from *and* they don't belong to me as usual. Too bad I wouldn't have canceled the show. :(

Colleen’s not surprised when as she walks out of the jet’s bathroom, heading for the chair in front of the sofa where Danny was supposed to be sleeping, she hears him toss and turn all over again - splendid, they won’t be in in New York for a long while, he  _already_  had that nightmare before and it’s happening again?

Well,  _obviously_ it is, and she just wishes he’d tell her what the problem is, but she can hear it when he talks about it, and he’s been sleeping terribly since they left K’un-Lun, and she’s not going to tell him that if he thinks the Hand did her wrong then he should think  _they_  did him wrong for the same reasons because she knows he won’t hear it. Not yet anyway.

Still, she hates seeing him like this, and she hates that he won’t say anything, not yet, but he probably needs time to elaborate the blow and then he’ll talk to her.

For now, though -

She waits, hoping that he wakes up on his own or that it’s not another nightmare, except that he groans and says  _no_ under his breath, and  _I didn’t mean to,_  and  _I came back_ , and  _I never wanted -_

She kneels in front of the sofa again and shakes him awake for the second time in what, six hours? This is not good. And given that she has to move to avoid getting punched in the face, it must have been  _bad_  - he’s covered in cold sweat when he opens his eyes and he finally looks at her.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry.”

“It’s  _fine_ ,” she tells him, putting a hand on his neck. “You don’t have to apologize for - for that, you can’t help it. But are you sure that -”

“Not now,” he says, and - well, it wasn’t  _not at all_. She can work with  _not now_.

“Fine,” she says, and then she decides that maybe that couch is big enough for them both, with enough effort - he usually  _doesn’t_  sleep this badly if they’re sharing a bed, does he? “And can I do anything?”

“Just - if you want to get some sleep it’s fine, I didn’t mean to -”

She shakes her head and moves on top of him, her knees around his legs, and  _yes_ , she fits in here, but just barely. She glances out of the window - they’re somewhere over the ocean now, no lights to be seen anywhere, and it’s dark out; she can barely make out his face in the soft light coming from the above lights.

“I think,” she says, “that you need a distraction.”

“Maybe,” he smiles tentatively, “but I think you’ll have to put me in the mood.”

“I like challenges,” she replies, moving her hand up to his face, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. “But just if you want to.”

“No, it’s just, it was  _bad_  and I don’t know if -”

“If you were about to say,  _if I can do anything right now_ , don’t. You don’t need to do anything.”

It’s adorable that he’s worrying about that  _now_ , but she leans down and kisses him before he can object. “Really,” she tells him, moving back, “sometimes it can be just about you, you know?”

He was about to say  _something_  about it but she kisses him again before he can, once, twice, moving her hands to his shoulders and kneading a bit - he groans into her mouth and he grows slightly less tense, and so she does it until he’s somewhat relaxed before moving a hand to his hair and grasping at the soft, damp curls at the back of his head and leaning down a bit more. She moves a hand over his chest, her thumb running over his nipple before moving down and grasping at his hips, and meanwhile she’s aligned her crotch to his, giving just the necessary fraction - of course he wasn’t hard before, she figures  _no one would be_ , but right now his hips are jerking upwards a bit, and she thinks he might get there, with some effort. Sadly she can’t give him head now, not when it’s so cramped and she doesn’t want him to sit up, so she opts for moving her arms behind his back while his finally grasp at hers and his fingers tangle through his hair - he sits up a bit and she follows, still kissing him, her tongue meeting his slowly as she presses up against his crotch, and as his knees bend slightly she just settles down in his lap. It’s still cramped, but he’s smiling when she moves back, and he’s definitely not covered in  _cold_  sweat.

She smirks, and then moves one of her hands at his waist.

“Did I put you in the mood?”

“You might have,” he says, sounding so fond he could burst with it, and she takes a moment to feel the plane moving with them and to make sure she won’t fall down if she just goes ahead with it but no, they’re fairly stable and there’s no turbulence, and she knows Danny hates planes, of course he would, and -

Well, she was supposed to distract him.

She sticks her hand into his trousers, and good thing they’re pj bottoms so she doesn’t have to take a belt off, and she finds him half-hard - she starts jerking him off slowly, her fingers curling and her thumb moving just under the head, not trying to rush it; he moans a bit, then louder, and then she puts her free hand around his neck and grasps at his hair, moving her mouth along his cheek and his neck while she keeps on jerking him off, and when she bites softly just below his ear she feels him getting  _harder_.

Sure as hell it’s working, she thinks with some satisfaction, and then picks up her pace, and at some point his hips jerk towards her and his head is in the crook of her neck, his mouth trailing kisses over her collarbone - she runs her hand through his hair as she goes faster, and faster, until he’s spilling against her hand and the plane flies over some island in the Pacific that she can’t recognize, and he’s groaning in relief as he does, his naked chest slumping against her - she moves her mouth along the side of his head, and when he’s completely spent she cleans off her hand against her trousers (those are cheap, the leather of that sofa definitely is not) and she doesn’t move; she merely puts her now free arm around his shoulders, and he doesn’t even try to get out of her grasp.

“Fine,” he says, “you might’ve put me in the mood. But really, I should -”

He sounds tired, and she shakes her head.

“I can do without for now,” she tells him. “You can make up to me in the morning. And I’m not sleeping on the chair for now.”

“You know we’re going to fall off this thing at some point, right?”

“Well, there’s carpet on the ground and you aren’t  _that_  heavy. I think I can handle it.”

“I think you can handle  _anything_ ,” he huffs, but it’s again, so fond he could burst with it, and she feels that within her, too, and so she just moves so she can kiss him proper again and when he lays back down again, she lays down on top of him.

“Really,” he says, “I’m paying you back that favor tomorrow.”

“Did I ever complain about your morning rituals? If it’s even morning when we wake up.”

“Hopefully we’ll be near New York, but the offer stands.”

“I’ll be glad to take it, but get some sleep in the meantime.”

He says nothing, merely closes his eyes as he turns his head towards the back of the sofa, right where the hollow of her neck is.

She doesn’t think she’s going to sleep, not too much, but it’s fine - she can get some when she’s in New York, she’s jet legged anyway - and if he does get some rest, it’s entirely worth it to lose some sleep over it.

After all, they  _do_  have something to look forward in the morning.

 

End.


End file.
